First Things First
by ganesh
Summary: James and Peppy, cadets at the Cornerian Defense Academy, are busy enjoying their college years. But with class mix-ups, love triangles, and a war brewing on the horizon, their lives are about to get interesting....
1. chapter 1

Okay… this is a story I've had bouncing around in my head for awhile now. I haven't   
written fan fiction since I was in middle school but here I am at it again! As you know,   
any character or place that you might recognize is copyrighted Nintendo and their   
lawyers will come beat me with burlap sacks full of bricks if I don't give them credit.   
Also, I'm using American English to refer to objects in the story (i.e., violin, subway,   
etc.) but if you want to imagine them using strange, alien things with strange, alien names   
be my guest.   
  
So…. yeah. Hope you enjoy.   
  
  
  
First Things First   
  
Chapter 1   
  
At age seventeen, Peppy Hare could not be distinguished from the rest of the sun baked   
workers that hunched in the wheat fields, their gloved hands working diligently at pulling   
irrigation hoses out of the soil, covering them in insulated tape, and gently prodding them   
back down into the ground.   
  
All things considered, Peppy had to admit that life wasn't so bad below the equator; his   
fur had shed during the past few months into a cool summer coat and sweat rolled down   
the sides of his face, buffering the heat of the sun. Wild birds sang and screeched and in   
the distance he could hear the daily train taking supplies to town, which in turn would be   
brought here to the farm, most likely by him. School was over. After this chore was   
finished, his violin would be waiting in the house. Peppy finished a length of tape and   
reached into his bag for another, taking advantage of the pause to rest for a moment,   
closing his eyes and letting the heat soak through him. But the best thing of all, he could   
not help thinking, was that the mail was due to come in just a few hours.   
  
His heart beat a little faster at the thought of it. But for now, he reminded himself, there   
was only sun, and wheat, and the irrigation hoses.   
  
The sun was just beginning to sink towards the mountains on the west when he and the   
farmhands began to reach the end of the field. Peppy cut the insulation tape as he   
reached the end of the hose and stood up, straightening his back with a series of   
satisfying pops. He gazed into the woods in front of him, the trees waving softly in the   
wind. Very pretty, he thought.   
  
"Finished, son?" Peppy turned and saw one of the farmhands, an old and grizzled boar   
wearing a floppy straw hat, wiping his hands and squinting at the young hare.   
  
"Yup," Peppy answered. "Is there anything else to do out here or can we go back?" His   
stomach growled as if to chide him for asking.   
  
The boar shook his head. "I'm gonna fix this here leak real quick, but it's a one-man job.   
You go on ahead back."   
  
Peppy stepped forward. "You sure? I could do it if you-"   
  
The boar held up his hand. "You go back. I want you rested up so's maybe we can all   
listen to some of your fiddle playin' a little later."   
  
Peppy smiled, nodded, and began to walk back to the house. It's called a violin, genius,   
he thought despite himself. The word "redneck" floated through his mind but he   
suppressed it guiltily. He sighed. It didn't matter. If he got what he hoped was coming   
in the mail tonight, he wouldn't be dealing with the hired help any more.   
  
  
* * *   
  
  
"You look flushed," his mother said.   
  
Peppy grinned. "It's hot out there." He took the water she handed him and took a long   
drink, his feet planted on the kitchen floor and his free arm dangling by his side; around   
him a few women were busily preparing food and washing dishes. His mother reached   
her hand out to him lovingly, but recoiled when her fingers touched damp, clammy fur.   
  
"You'd best take a shower before we sit down to dinner," she said, wiping her hand off.   
  
"Do we have any breadsticks left," Peppy asked, ignoring her.   
  
"No. You ate the last of 'em this morning."   
  
"Is that so…" Peppy began to survey the kitchen when his mother flipped a towel at him.   
  
"Get your smelly behind in the shower, young man!" She rolled her eyes. "Dinner'll be   
ready soon. You don't need to be eatin'."   
  
"Okay, okay. No, wait. Has the mail come yet?" His mother sighed in frustration and   
Peppy sheepishly realized how closely he was pushing it. She was wonderful when she   
was in a good mood, but running a farm was not a stress free job, and she had a tendency   
to let it get to her. He decided to back down. "I'm sorry. I'll shower."   
  
"Good." Peppy walked out of the kitchen and was about to turn the corner when he   
heard her voice.   
  
"Yes, mail came in about twenty minutes ago. You can check AFTER you shower."   
  
Peppy's stomach did a flip. "Yes, ma!" he cried, breaking into a run as he reached the   
wide and sunny central living room that, with its open roof in the center, doubled as a   
porch. He made his way past the numerous hired hands and relatives that reclined and   
played games in the lazy evening warmth, and headed for the loading dock at the side of   
the house. There, among bushels of vegetables ready for shipping, he found the worker   
on duty.   
  
"Need the mail," he said, a little out of breath.   
  
The worker raised an eyebrow. "Yer ma usually passes it out AFTER dinner," he said.   
Peppy inwardly cringed. It was a good thing a different person worked loading dock duty   
every day; otherwise someone would have long since caught on to him.   
  
"I'm just taking it in to her now," Peppy said pleasantly. "Dinner's about to go on the   
table." He grinned perhaps a little too suspiciously, but the worker didn't notice.   
Instead, he jerked his head towards the pile of envelopes and magazines that lay on a   
shelf next to some peach cartons. Peppy took it and ran.   
  
He continued to run until he reached the dining hall, where he deposited the stack of mail   
and began to feverishly look through it. Should be here today, he thought. Should be   
here, should be here, should be - he stopped. There, between a tractor catalogue and a   
postcard from Titania, was an envelope addressed to him. The return address read:   
  
Cornerian Defense Academy   
Corneria City, Central Province, Corneria   
  
Peppy began to tremble. It was a very large envelope.   
  
And then he was off again. He jogged up the three flights of stairs to the main hall on the   
top floor of the house, where he and his family lived. An uncle and two cousins on the   
bottom floor looked up curiously as they saw him race by above on the balcony   
overlooking the living room. Peppy took a running leap onto his bed and tore open the   
envelope, forgetting to shut the door.   
  
Accepted. Good. He had expected that when he saw the size of the envelope and even   
then, despite his excitement, it hadn't been a surprise; his school records were more than   
qualified and the teacher recommendations had been glowing. What would really decide   
whether he went would be the scholarship. Knowing full well his father's feelings on   
leaving the family business, Peppy had put himself down on the application as   
unsupported and applied for every form of financial aid in the catalogue. Although   
government-run schools, such as military academies, never made students pay for their   
own education, Peppy knew that even the fee for transportation and room and board was   
beyond his reach. He searched through the papers impatiently.   
  
"Peppy." The young hare looked up, startled, and saw three heads poking through the   
door. He relaxed and smiled at his younger siblings. Max, his thirteen year old voice   
cracking, said, "What're you doing? We heard you runnin' through the hall like there   
was a fire or something." Jonathan, age twelve, and Myra, age seven both stared at him   
eagerly.   
  
Peppy casually covered the papers. "Nothin'. Just like bein' in my room, that's all." His   
southern accent was as thick as theirs, and indeed as thick as the rest of the people living   
on the farm. He hated it.   
  
Jonathan slyly crept up to the bed. "You've never liked it in here so much before."   
  
"Maybe you just never noticed, smart guy."   
  
"Maybe you're just-" With a flourish, Max whipped his arm out and grabbed one of the   
papers. "HIDING SOMETHING FROM US!"   
  
"MAX!" Peppy gasped in fear and lunged for the paper. "For god's sake, keep it down,   
wouldja!?" Max read the paper.   
  
"Dear Mr. Hare, we are delighted to inform you… blah blah… whoa! Wow! Check it   
out, guys! Peppy's gonna go to Corneria City and be a SOLDIER!" Jonathan's jaw   
dropped and Myra gasped.   
  
"Is - is it true?" she asked. "You're really going? When? I can't believe ma and pa are   
letting you do this!"   
  
Peppy continued to look through the papers until he found the financial information.   
After skimming it, he broke into a grin and pumped his fist in the air. "Yes, I'm really   
going. And our parents-" Now that he was going to live up north, he decided, he would   
stop using "ma" and "pa" like a hick - "don't know yet. And I'M gonna be the one to tell   
them, ya hear?" He glared at the three of them.   
  
Max nodded. "Fair enough. But why in the world do you wanna be a soldier? This is   
new."   
  
"I'm not going to be a soldier," Peppy said simply. The three stared at him and, after a   
few moments, he realized it was necessary to explain. "See, the academy doesn't just   
train pilots. They also have a foreign relations major there. What I REALLY wanna do   
is train to become an ambassador or something. Concentrate in linguistics. Travel   
around the galaxy. Meet interesting people and all that jazz." His voice grew softer.   
"Get myself off this farm, mainly." He came back to himself. "But you guys, listen. It's   
REALLY important for you to not breath a word of this to our parents, okay? The   
semester doesn't start until winter and I can't let them find out until I'm packed and   
walking out the door. If they find out before I tell them come January, there's no way   
they'll let me go. They might even call the school and cancel my acceptance or   
something. Besides, I get scared just thinking about how dad'll react to me wanting to   
leave. This… this is really important to me, guys."   
  
Jonathan bit his lip while Max looked down and Myra pouted a bit. "We're gonna miss   
you somethin' fierce," she said.   
  
"I'm gonna miss you, too," Peppy said, fondly rubbing her head. The three sat in   
awkward silence for a bit. Outside Peppy's window a truck pulled up to the docking bay   
and workers began loading vegetables.   
  
Peppy suddenly brightened. "Hey, wanna see a neat trick?" The three snapped back to   
life and nodded eagerly. "Okay. Tell me what you think of this." Peppy cleared his   
throat, took a breath, and said, "The name's Pollux Hare. It's great to meet you." He put   
on a vaudeville grin and Max, Myra and Jonathan gasped. Every trace of his southern   
accent was gone.   
  
"You… you don't sound like a southerner no more!" Jonathan began to laugh   
incredulously. "Damn, Peppy! It's like it's not even you!"   
  
Peppy grinned giddily. "So it's good? It's believable? You'd think I was from the   
north?"   
  
Myra nodded quickly. "Peppy, I'm havin' trouble believing you're from the south right   
now."   
  
"That's a relief," Peppy said, letting himself slip back into the comfort of his accent. "I   
was afraid people'd be able to tell I was faking. This way I figure maybe I won't make   
too bad of a first impression when I meet everyone else up there."   
  
"So you're getting rid of the nickname, too?"   
  
Peppy shrugged. "Yeah. Same reason."   
  
Myra was about to speak when the dinner bell rang and there was a rustle of activity   
throughout the house. The four of them arose and began to file out of the room. As they   
started down the hall, Peppy said, "remember, guys. Not. A. Word."   
  
  
* * *   
  
  
An hour later, the meal was eaten and the family and workers chatted with one another   
around the table as Jonathan and one of his cousins passed out the mail. Peppy talked   
with those around him as cheerfully as ever before, although inside he was churning with   
conflicting emotions. His elation at being assured a spot in the academy was tempered   
by his fear at the inevitability of telling his parents; the sight of his tall, stern father when   
he had returned home from the merchants' deposit in town had made him tremble   
slightly. Tobias Hare seldom smiled.   
  
So naturally, when Peppy felt his hand land on his shoulder and his voice booming his   
name behind him, he jumped and nearly spilled the juice he was drinking down the front   
of his shirt. "Y-yes sir?" he stammered, suddenly sure that he had found out, that it was   
all over.   
  
But when he looked up into his father's face, the hare's eyes were kind. "Pollux, why   
don't you play the fiddle for us all? You know we all love to hear you play."   
  
Peppy relaxed visibly and smiled. "Sure thing. Lemme go up and get it." Violin, he   
thought.   
  
When he returned with the instrument a few minutes later, the room quieted noticeably   
and more than a few people halted their conversations to watch him tune the strings and   
put rosin on the bow. His father leaned back in his chair and his mother smiled a bit.   
Peppy looked once around the room to see if everyone was ready and the last of the noise   
stopped; modestly, he put the bow to the strings and began to play.   
  
The piece was a reel he had picked up during an outing a few years ago to Evanshire   
Province, and it was one of his favorites. Tobias smiled despite himself. Peppy's mother   
closed her eyes and glowed with pride. As the music washed over them, the workers   
began to nod their heads and clap softly to the rhythm while his family members moved   
in their chairs and gazed at him. Jonathan and Max grinned. Myra fought the urge to get   
up and dance along with the other children because she was seven now and therefore a   
grown-up. Peppy was unaware of their reactions.   
  
As he ended the song and tucked the violin under his arm, the room erupted into applause   
and he blushed. Tobias gave him a good-natured slap on the back.   
  
"Very nice, son. Thank you." Peppy smiled, happy at his father's approval.   
  
Myra fidgeted in her seat, her hands pinned beneath her legs to keep her from jumping   
up. Suddenly she wondered something and turned to Jonathan. He had begun playing   
rock-paper-scissors with a cousin. She turned to Max, only to discover that he was on his   
way to the kitchen with his empty plate. It wouldn't hurt to ask Peppy, she decided, even   
though she had promised to not say a word. If she just asked him very quickly no one   
else would hear. As her big brother started out of the room to put the violin away she   
jumped out of her chair and ran after him.   
  
"Peppy!" she cried, unaware of the volume of her voice. As Peppy turned Myra blurted   
out, "Peppy, are you gonna bring your fiddle to Corneria City? Are you gonna play it for   
everyone in the city?"   
  
Peppy's eyes registered panic and Myra immediately realized her folly. The room went   
strangely quiet again and Tobias peered at his daughter, confused.   
  
"Myra, honey? What are you talking about? Peppy's not going to Corneria City. Who   
told you that?"   
  
Myra was a terrible liar. "N…no one, pa. I… I thought he was goin' for some reason. I   
don't know why. I think maybe I had a dream that he was goin'." She laughed nervously   
and Tobias looked up at Peppy, who shrugged, sweating. Tobias frowned.   
  
"Hey, why's our Peppy goin' up north!?" one of the workers called from the other end of   
the room.   
  
"Peppy," Tobias said, getting out of his chair and walking towards the two menacingly.   
"Is there something you're not telling me?"   
  
Peppy shook his head rapidly, the fear on his face all too apparent. "No, no! I swear, pa,   
I have no idea what she's talking about!" But he knew it was too late; there would be no   
convincing him now. His heart sank and he felt sick.   
  
Tobias continued to advance on him, his face becoming more and more stern. "Now,   
you listen here, boy," he said. "We do NOT keep secrets from each other here if we   
know what's good for us. Especially secrets involving leaving home. Now, I will ask   
you this once. Why," and at this point his face was inches from Peppy's, "are you going   
to Corneria City?"   
  
Peppy stared at his father, feeling as if he'd been hypnotized. The room was silent. Myra   
was close to crying. Peppy cycled through several possible lies, eliminating each one   
systematically, knowing that his fear had given him away. After several moments, he   
drooped his head miserably.   
  
"I… I got accepted into the StarForce Academy. I want to get a degree in foreign   
relations and become an ambassador."   
  
Afterwards there was more silence until Tobias said, "What? What in the world are you   
talking about?"   
  
Peppy, trembling now, looked up and repeated himself.   
  
His father stared at him, utterly perplexed. "What…? I… How long have you wanted to   
do this, son? Did this just come from the blue? I don't understand."   
  
Peppy took a deep breath, feeling countless pairs of eyes boring into him. "I've wanted   
to do this for a long time. It's been… well, it's been my dream. I want to be able to   
travel. To different planets." His father was silent and Peppy suddenly found strength.   
"I'm going to major in linguistics - I'm going to learn different languages. I'm going to   
try to become a Cornerian ambassador and represent the planet to alien races and-"   
  
"Pollux," his father said, "This is out of the question."   
  
Peppy stopped short, his mouth hanging open impotently.   
  
"You've known for years now that you're the one who's going to take over this farm   
after I'm gone. Your mother and I have known it ever since you were born. Life has a   
plan, Pollux; you can't suddenly develop a whim and decide you're going to go off and   
chase it-"   
  
"But what about Max?" Peppy interrupted. "What about Jonathan? Or Myra? All three   
of them would be great at running the farm!"   
  
"You're the oldest," Tobias said simply.   
  
"What!?" Peppy felt outraged. "Don't you think that's a little unfair? To not even   
consider them? To just dump it all on me because-"   
  
"Pollux," Tobias said, and Peppy felt himself go cold all over. "YOU are my oldest   
child. YOU are the one I plan on training to head this farm. YOU are the one that I have   
relied on all these years. And I can assure you that things are NOT going to suddenly   
change because you want to go skipping after some fantasy. End of story. Now you   
STOP this nonsense." He turned away.   
  
No one in the room moved until Peppy quietly said, "I can't do that."   
  
Tobias's eyes widened in disbelief and he turned back again slowly. "Care to repeat   
that?"   
  
Peppy was momentarily shocked at the words that had just come from his mouth, but   
decided that he couldn't take them back. He tried to stop shaking as he looked at his   
father and said, "I am going to the academy. My expenses are already paid. I'm leaving   
in January."   
  
Tobias shook his head and Peppy mentally readied another argument until his father   
spoke. "No," he said. "If you go to that academy, you're leaving now. And you are not   
coming back."   
  
Peppy felt dizzy for a moment and the world tilted crazily to the left, then to the right,   
and finally fixed itself. He thought he heard his mother gasp. Myra burst into tears. The   
eyes still stared. I have just been kicked out of my house, he found himself thinking. In   
some insane way, it made him want to laugh. Not knowing what else to do, Peppy slowly   
started to leave the room.   
  
"If you walk out that door," Tobias said, "I want you gone by morning."   
  
Peppy paused and took one last look around the room. Despair filled him for a moment,   
then faded into numbness. He looked at Max and Jonathan, then Myra and his mother,   
and finally at Tobias. He nodded. "I'll be gone," he said quietly. "I love you, pa. I'll   
make you proud." With that, he turned and left, not hearing his mother's sobs and   
protests, or his father's shaky assurances that it was all right, that he'd be back, that it   
was just a phase.   
  
The next morning Max, Jonathan and Myra each found a note waiting for them at the   
foot of their beds. They looked away when they saw their parents rush downstairs from   
Peppy's room and stare, wild with worry, out the window at the road beyond. "He'll be   
back," Tobias said, over and over again. 


	2. chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Diners in the middle of downtown Corneria City rarely had a free moment after seven a.m. The morning commute started at six thirty and steadily gathered steam all the way until nine, slowing down a bit then but picking up again during lunch and the afternoon rush; from the moment they opened, most cheap coffee shops and cafes, especially the ones close to subway entrances, enjoyed a steady stream of laborers stopping in for a bagel, yuppies reading the morning paper over a warm drink, and the occasional college student staring at the menu, deciding between a smoothie or a hot mocha. Rainy mornings were good, most shop owners found, and snowy days were the best; the more miserable the day was, the more appetizing hot drinks and quick meals sounded. December was the best time of year for diners in downtown Corneria City.   
  
Today had been particularly miserable. A light drizzle and impenetrable cloud cover had dominated the morning, causing a minor catastrophe when a hot chocolate machine broke; around lunchtime the temperature had dropped and the sleet had begun, briefly turning into snow but dissolving again, creating mounds of slush on every sidewalk. Cornerians walked with their hands in their pockets and their heads barely visible underneath hats and scarves. They sighed with relief as they entered the diners. Now it was six o'clock and the sky was just beginning to darken; a spot at the counter had just freed up when a young fox walked in and began to shake the water off his jacket.   
  
The bear washing a coffee spill off the countertop looked up and smiled. "James! Hey there. Usual?"  
  
James nodded and blew warmth into his hands as the bear went to the cappuccino maker. "How's it going?" he asked. "FREEZING out there."  
  
The bear laughed and yelled over the din of the machine. "I wouldn't know. I haven't stepped outside all day."  
  
James grinned. "Lucky you. I had to go get vaccinations today."  
  
"Oh!" The bear handed him his drink. "For school?"  
  
"Yup. The academy requires all sorts of crazy shots. I've got welts running all the way down my arm."  
  
The bear grinned. "It's for a good cause."  
  
James grinned back, took a sip, and quickly spit it back into the mug. "Mmmmph! HOT!"  
  
"Uh, yeah. I'm glad you noticed." The bear looked at the clock behind him. "What time is…hmm. I think I'm gonna run down to the newsstand really quick - you wanna come after you finish?"  
  
James began to shake his head, then stopped. "Well… actually, yeah. Why not?"  
  
"Why the sudden change of mind?"  
  
James shrugged. "I dunno. I got a feeling." He drank his cappuccino, put his coat back on, and the two walked out the door, each instantly receiving a faceful of sleet.   
  
"Man! Whew, you weren't kidding!" The bear pulled his collar up over his scarf. "Jeez. So you lookin' forward to school?"  
  
"Oh yeah." James plunked some change into a beggar's plastic cup. "I've been looking forward to it since I was a kit. You should see how proud my parents are."  
  
"Your dad's a pilot too, right?"  
  
James nodded. "Yeah, and my grandmother before him, and my great-grandfather before her. It's kind of a genetic thing."  
  
The bear chuckled. "Good, good. Maybe your kids'll grow up to be pilots."  
  
"They'd better," James said, and they laughed. On their left they passed a fiddler dressed in a shabby coat and fingerless gloves.  
  
At the newsstand the bear picked up the evening news and they quickly headed back, experimenting with every possible permutation of their coats to cover more of their bodies. "Oh, did you hear?" the bear asked. "General Vessic is running for office again."  
  
"No kidding? Didn't he give up after the whole bikini fiasco?"  
  
The bear shrugged. "Eh, apparently not. At least no one can say the guy's not tenacious."  
  
"Ugh," James said. "He's so slimy. If he ever becomes Prime Minister the whole solar system's doomed. All of Lylat - gone. Bye bye."  
  
"You can say that again," said the bear, and James did.  
As they passed the fiddler again, he shook some snow from his long ears and began to play.  
  
"Hold up," James said, slowing down. "That guy's pretty good. Wanna listen?"  
  
"Aw, come on," the bear said. "It's freezing and my break's almost over." He stopped and looked at the fiddler, who was now churning out a lively reel as onlookers clapped and dropped coins into his open violin case. "Haven't you seen this guy before? He performs somewhere along this street almost every night."  
  
James shook his head, not wanting to mar the music by speaking. The fiddler, a brown and white hare, looked to be about James's age, barely over seventeen. Poor fella, James thought. Must be a runaway or something. The fiddler finished the reel and the bear tapped James's shoulder. "I gotta go," he said.  
  
James nodded, his eyes on the fiddler. "Okay. Sorry. I'll catch you later?"  
  
"Sure," the bear said, gave James a pat on the back, and walked back to the diner.  
  
After playing four more reels and two ballads, the fiddler bowed modestly, quickly gathered up the change, and began counting it, his brow furrowed. James, thoroughly interested, gently pushed his way through the crowd.  
  
"Hey," he said, and the fiddler looked up quickly, startled. James noticed that he discreetly tucked the money into his fist. "You're really good," James said kindly. "Where'd you learn to play like that?"  
  
"Oh," the fiddler said, relaxing a tiny bit. "Oh, I dunno. I've been playing since I was a kid. Thank you."  
  
"No problem. I mean, no, I really meant it." The fiddler gave a quick smile and kneeled to pack up his violin. James stood by awkwardly as he stood up again, gave another smile, and began to walk away. Oh well, James thought, before he noticed that the fiddler was shivering.  
  
"Hey, buddy," he called, jogging after him. The fiddler stopped, froze, and turned around again warily. "Listen," James said, feeling moronic. "Do you - do you have a place to stay? Do you need a place to crash or something? You look like you're down on your luck."  
  
"N-no," the fiddler stammered, fidgeting uncomfortably. "No, I'm fine. Thanks, though." He began to walk again.  
  
James watched for a moment before saying, "James."  
  
Again the fiddler stopped and turned around. "That's not my name," he said.  
  
"No," James said. "It's mine."  
  
"Oh," the fiddler said. He suddenly cracked a lopsided grin. "Y'know, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to hit on me."  
  
"What?" James said, laughing. "Me? No. Sorry, I don't swing that way."  
  
"Oh, darn. You got my hopes up." They both laughed. "The name's Pollux," Peppy said.  
  
***  
  
  
"It's not much, but I've gotten by for the past few months," Peppy said, flipping on the light in the small bedroom. James had never been inside a hostel before and it wasn't as bad as he had expected; the room was a simple white thing with a bed and a dresser, very clean, very sensible. A large backpack slumped against the wall and out of it poured a few changes of clothing and some careworn books. Some stationary was scattered at the foot of the bed. Peppy set the violin case down next to the backpack and turned to look at James. "I've gotten by," he repeated.  
  
An hour and a half ago James had decided that it would be a good idea to get dinner on the way to wherever they decided they were going; they had stopped at the diner and the bear had given James a startled and disapproving look at the sight of scruffy, tattered Peppy beside him. Nevertheless, he had ordered a good dinner for himself and, despite frantic protests, Peppy, too. The hare had stared at his dinner guiltily for a full five minutes until James demanded that he eat and not reject the hospitality; once he got started, though, he had wolfed down the food as if he hadn't eaten properly in weeks. Which was probably true, James had thought.  
  
Now James looked at the room and nodded. "I have no problem believing that." He leaned against the wall. "So…you use the money you get from playing the violin to pay for this?"  
  
"I have a day job working at the drycleaner down the street. The room's four hundred a month which gives me just enough money to pay for food." Peppy shrugged. "But, I mean, whatever. I'm moving out in a few weeks."  
  
James, thinking of dinner, fought the urge to ask exactly how much a month was spent on food. "Where're you going? If you don't mind my asking."   
  
"School," Peppy said. "Do you live here in the city?"  
  
"Yeah. I live uptown, near the museums. It's nice."  
  
"Cool," Peppy said, grinning. "I've never been here before. Well, I mean, I've been living here but I don't really get out much. I haven't had time to see anything."  
  
"Where do you come from," James asked.  
  
Peppy hesitated a bit. "Selente Province," he said.  
  
"Oh! Okay. That's not too far. What city?"  
  
Peppy looked almost frightened. "Oh, you wouldn't have heard of it -"  
  
"Nah, nah, I've got friends there."  
  
"…Oh." Peppy fidgeted. "Um. Fort Saul."  
  
James nodded. "Ah. Okay. The people I know are in Rocksford."  
  
"Imagine that," Peppy said with a weak smile.  
  
There was an awkward silence and they both looked around the room as if studying it. James was suspicious. If Pollux is from Selente, he thought, why does he seem so ashamed of it?  
  
"So," he said finally.  
  
"So," Peppy replied.  
  
"Really?" James asked.  
  
"Yeah," Peppy said. They both laughed.  
  
"I didn't ask you," James said. "Where are you going to school?"  
"The Cornerian Defense Academy." At this Peppy spoke a little louder, and even puffed up a bit in pride.  
  
"What?" James nearly leapt forward. "You're going to the academy? Are you a freshman? I'm a freshman too!"  
  
Peppy blinked and stepped back. "Wait, what? You're going to the academy?"  
  
James was grinning. "Yeah! Wow, that's great! I'm majoring in aviation. You?"  
  
"Foreign relations," Peppy said quietly, the fear amplified in his voice. He smiled nervously. "You… you wanna be a pilot?"  
  
James decided to ignore whatever was bothering the hare. He was performing on the street for god's sake, he thought. I shouldn't be surprised that he's a bit weird. "Yeah, I want to be a fighter pilot for the Starforce."  
  
Peppy's eyes widened. "A fighter pilot! Crazy."  
  
James shrugged. "Well, my dad flies commercial freighters now but he flew an army transporter for a few years, and my grandmother was a pilot for the Airforce, but that was way after all the disputes moved to space, so all they did was air shows. And my great grandfather was a stunt pilot - he flew those old fashioned biplanes and would do flips and things." James smiled and looked out the window. "See, it feels like my relatives were almost in the action but not quite, you know? I want to be in the thick of it. I want all the glory."  
  
Peppy grinned. "You can have it. I just want to travel."  
  
James laughed. "Fair enough." He looked at his watch. "Say, you want to go somewhere? Night's still young. I could show you some of the youth clubs."  
  
Peppy raised an eyebrow. "So it's a date, now, is it? You gonna buy me flowers, too?" And James grinned as he playfully punched the hare on the shoulder.  
  
  
Thirty minutes and four subway stops later, James pushed open the door of a small underground club filled with sweaty high school students and a few young college students dancing, talking, and drinking soda at a bar.  
  
"Soda?" Peppy asked.  
  
"I told you it was a youth club," James said. "Besides, plenty of kids show up drunk anyway."  
  
They took seats at the bar and almost immediately James's friends began to gravitate towards them, cheerfully saying hello to Peppy as they joked and laughed with James. He's quite the popular one, Peppy thought.  
  
"Hey," he said a little while later. "Is there a phone here? I want to call someone."  
  
James, Sylvie, Rob, Ira, Raj, and Judith simultaneously pointed to the hallway. "There's a payphone right next to the bathroom," James said. "You got a phonecard?" Peppy held one up and smiled as he made his way through the crowd.  
  
"He seems really nice," Sylvie said, looking after him. "Where'd he say he was from, again?"  
  
"Selente province, I think," James said.  
  
"He seems so nervous," Raj said. "Kinda paranoid."  
  
James shrugged. "I noticed that, too. But I mean, he's living in a hostel. Not staying. Living. I don't know what happened to put him in a situation like that."  
  
"You truly are a bleeding heart, James."  
  
"I don't know…" Sylvie was contemplative. "I lived in Selente for five years. He doesn't seem like someone from Selente."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"I don't know," she confessed. She then shrugged and smiled. "Well, in any case, I bet you two'll have a blast at the academy." She suddenly looked at her watch. "Shoot, guys, we've gotta go! The last train leaves in half an hour!" As everyone jumped up and began to gather their coats, Judith looked at James, and then at the door to the hallway.   
  
"I guess you're just taking the subway home?" she said.  
  
James nodded. "I'm not sure what I should do about Pollux, though. I hate to just send him back to the hostel but I'd feel awkward bringing him home with me."  
  
"He'll be fine," said Raj, at the exact same moment that Rob said, "Invite him home."  
  
"Thanks, guys," James said.  
  
"You'll think of something," Judith said. "We've gotta go." They all waved goodbyes, demanded that he call each of them, confirmed their plans for the next Saturday, waved goodbye again, waited as Sylvie ran back for a forgotten scarf, waved goodbye again, and left.  
  
James finished his drink and glanced at the door to the hallway. He ate a few peanuts.  
  
"Um… I guess… black tea, please?"  
  
James glanced to his side as the female voice chimed over the din of the music, and was caught. Sitting beside him in a dark blue skirt with a Fortunian tribal printed scarf tied around her head was the prettiest vixen he had ever seen, shyly taking off her coat. All thoughts of Peppy vanished, and he stared.   
  
The vixen thanked the bartender as he gave her a glass of hot water and a tea bag, and she delicately tore open the paper covering and lowered the bag into the water, bobbing it up and down. James looked her over. The skirt was actually a dress, sleeveless with crisscrossing straps down the back. It ended a little below her knees, revealing ratty jeans and sneakers. Now here's a jazzy tune, thought James. She looked up and caught his eye. He blushed and looked back down at his drink.  
  
"Hi," she said, smiling.  
  
James looked back up. "Oh," he said, feigning surprise. "Um. Hi."  
  
He gulped his soda and she continued to bob the tea bag. Time passed. James swished his tail nervously and felt a jolt as it connected with hers.  
  
"Oh!" he said. "I'm... sorry. I gotta watch that thing."  
  
"It's okay," she said. She sipped her glass and, eyes widening, spit it back into the glass. "Mmmph!" She looked up at James, embarrassed. "Too hot," she explained.  
  
James laughed. "I did that just earlier today, actually. My tongue still hurts."  
  
She grinned. "Really? Okay, then I don't feel so bad."  
  
James smiled back. "You come here often?"  
  
"No," she said. "This is my first time. I was supposed to meet a blind date here but he canceled on me on my way over." She held up a cellphone and rolled her eyes. "Figures, huh? Ever since I bought this thing it's brought me nothing but sorrow."  
  
"I'm sorry," James said. "Evil cellphone."  
  
"Yeah, well," she said. "You here alone?"  
  
James shook his head. "I'm here with a friend but he's using the phone. In fact..." He looked at his watch. "He's been using the phone for quite a while now."  
  
The vixen grinned. "Maybe he fell in. No, wait, that joke doesn't work."  
  
"What?" James laughed. "You're strange."  
  
"Seriously, though. You should go check on him."  
  
"Hmm..." James murmured. Or, I could stay here and look at you, he thought. "Nah, I'm sure he'll be fine. He's a big boy. My name's James, by the way."  
  
The vixen smiled and said, "Vixy." God, what a smile.  
  
"So," James said. "Are you in secondary school? Or college?"  
  
"In between," she said. "I start college in two weeks. Delantey School of the Arts."  
  
"Cool! What're you majoring in? Wait, lemme guess. You must be a painter."  
  
She laughed and shook her head. "Nope. Piano performance. People mistake me for an artist all the time, though - I think it's the shoes." She held up a foot and James saw words and pictures drawn all over her sneaker. "How about you? Between?"  
  
"Between," James said. "Next month I start at CDA."  
  
"Cornerian Defense Academy?"  
  
"You guessed it."  
  
"Very nice," she said.   
  
"Yeah," James said. "I'm going to train to become a fighter pilot."  
  
"Whoa!" The vixen pretended to be blown back by an imaginary wind. "Craziness! I could never do that."  
  
James gave her a cocky grin. "Yeah, well. I get that a lot."  
  
"How 'bout your friend?"  
  
"Hmm?" James continued to smile at her.  
  
"Your... your friend. The one you said you were with."  
  
"Oh," James said. Then, "Oh! Pollux! Yeah, he's going to the academy, too."  
  
"Ah. You both gonna be pilots?"  
  
"No," James said. "He's majoring in something else. I... can't remember what."  
  
The vixen raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Suddenly her cellphone rang, and she jumped a bit, and turned away from him as she answered it.  
  
James looked back towards his drink, then at the door to the hallway. He checked his watch again. It had been almost half an hour since the hare had gone to use the phone - was he even still here? James couldn't help but think that perhaps he had left, ditching James and going back to the hostel.  
  
"Well," the vixen said, turning back towards him and putting the phone away. "That was my date. Now he wants to meet up again."  
  
"Oh," James said, feeling crestfallen.   
  
"Yeah," she said. "He wants to meet at this diner down the street now. I told him yes, but... blah. I don't really want to meet him now but a friend of mine set us up and thinks we'd be perfect together so I really should go..."  
  
"Hey, I understand," James said. "Um. Can I get your number?"  
  
She smiled. "If I can have yours."  
  
"Great," James said, fumbling for a piece of paper. Their paws touched slightly as they exchanged the numbers. She put on her coat, bundled it up, and hesitantly gave him a wave. He returned it, and she turned and walked out of the club, giving James the faintest hint of her perfume as she left. He continued to stare after the door swung closed.  
  
After a minute or two he sighed, put the paper in his pocket, checked his watch, and got up to go to the hallway.  
  
"So, how's pa? He still mad? Uh huh... uh huh... wow. That bad, huh?" James heard Peppy's voice floating down the hall and turned the corner to see him using the payphone, covering one ear to block out the sound of the thumping music. But there was something different about him...  
  
"Couldja put Myra on? ...Myra? Hey, it's Peppy! Yeah! What? Yeah, I've been' goin'. Every sunday. They have a church right down the street from the place I'm staying at... nah, it's nice. Big cathedral. Different denomination but after a couple of weeks I got the liturgy down, so..." he laughed. "Myra, you don't get un-saved just by going to a different church."  
  
Now HERE'S some character development, thought James, leaning against the wall and watching the hare. So he was religious. All right, fine. But "Peppy?" And what was with that accent? He sounded like he had just jumped off of a homemade raft coming up the Hamport river. James remembered Peppy's reluctance to say where he was from. His nervousness at saying he was from Selente. Suddenly it all fell into place.  
  
James sniggered despite himself. Peppy?  
  
"Well, I'd really better go," Peppy continued. "I've been on the phone for nearly forty five minutes. Give my love to ma, and pa, too... all right... all right. I'll talk to y'all later. Bye!" He hung up the receiver, sighed, and stood still for a moment, looking a bit sad. He then turned towards the door and jumped back as he saw James.  
  
"James!" His face became a mask with a smile on it. The southern accent vanished. "Hey, sorry I took so long. I was calling my family, so, you know, it took longer than I thought...."   
  
"Oh, no problem, Peppy," James replied with a smirk.  
  
Peppy stared at him for a moment, then sighed, defeated. "All right," he said. "How much did you hear?"  
  
"Enough," James said. "I take it you're not from Selente."  
  
Peppy nodded and looked at the ceiling. "Nope. I'm from Worlandy province. It's down south. You might not have heard of it."  
  
"Okay," James said, trying to remember the maps from his secondary school geography class. "So why'd you lie? What, are you embarrassed or something?"  
  
As they spoke, the accent gradually seeped back into Peppy's voice. "Well, yeah. I dunno. I'm a redneck teenager living in a hostel in downtown Corneria City. I'd get eaten alive if I didn't put up a front." He shrugged. "Wanted to make a good impression, that's all."  
  
James looked at him for a long time. Finally he spoke. "Come on," he said. "You're crashing at my place tonight."  
  
***  
  
Peppy decided he was in love with James's father.  
  
He was big -- not incredibly overweight, but certainly big. It was more in his presence than his body, and Peppy was reminded of his own father, except that while Tobias's size made you want to cower in fear, Jack McCloud's booming laugh and good humor invited you into his world, made you want to pull up a chair and put your feet up. Peppy felt cozier than he had in months, sitting with James and his parents in their apartment as James's father questioned him about school, and his home, and his music, promising not to call his parents. "I think you're old enough to think for yourself," he had said upon finding out Peppy's situation. "It's not my place to meddle in your affairs."  
  
The best part, however, was his accent. James hadn't mentioned that his parents were from Wolfsfur, just north of Evanshire, although upon looking back, Peppy guessed that the name "McCloud" should have tipped him off. Both of James's parents spoke with rich Wolfsfurian tones and perked up when they found out that Peppy's specialty was Wolfsfurian reels. They demanded that he play for them sometime, and he gladly said that he would.  
  
After relaxing for an hour or two and making sure Peppy became thoroughly aquainted, James stood up and announced that he would get the folding cot out of the linen closet, and Peppy stood up with him. Jack stretched. "Well, Peppy," he said. "I hope you enjoy staying with us. What d'you like for breakfast? You're a vegetarian, I assume?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Peppy said obediently.  
  
Jack smiled and nodded. "Well, Emily here knows a few recipes for your type. You two go on and get some sleep now." Goodnights were said and the two teenagers filed into the hall.  
  
"He's such a sweet boy," Emily McCloud said, settling down and reaching for the remote control.  
  
Jack grunted his agreement. "Something tells me they're going to be friends for a long time." As Emily turned on the television, they were met with the face of General Harris Vessic as he waved confidently at a mob of reporters.   
  
Emily sighed. "He's a bad man," she said. "Did you hear? The latest polls say he might actually have a chance at winning the election this year."  
  
"That'll be a sad day for all of us," Jack said.  
  
"Aye," Emily agreed. "And with all this now about Katina wantin' independence..." she trailed off and for a moment they both watched the television. "It looks like we might have a civil war on our hands," she finished.  
  
"Aye," Jack said, his voice grave.  
  
In James's bedroom, Peppy examined the posters on the wall while James put some blankets and sweats to sleep in on the cot. "So what'd you think of my parents," he asked.  
  
"They're awesome," Peppy answered. "Wow. Their voices. I coulda listened to them talk all night."  
  
James grinned. "I'll bet they're saying the same thing about you."  
  
Peppy rolled his eyes and began to spread the blankets over the cot. They both changed for bed.  
  
"Seriously, though," James said. "I brought you here to show you that no one cares if you're from out of town. There are plenty of people in this city from plenty of places."  
  
"I suppose," Peppy said. "Thanks for letting me stay here, in any case."  
  
"You can stay for as long as you want," James said. "That room of yours didn't look like a ton of fun."  
  
Peppy smiled. "I have to admit," he said. "I'm kind of worried about leaving my vio... my fiddle there overnight."  
  
"It'll be fine," James said. They both lay down in their beds. Suddenly James thought of something. "Say. What's the difference between a violin and a fiddle, anyway?"  
  
"Violin's more high class," Peppy said, and would not answer further.  
  
"...ah," James said. "Well, goodnight."  
  
"G'night," Peppy said. James turned off the light and, after a few minutes of rustling blankets and shifting positions, the two lay still. James listened as Peppy's breathing became slow and even. He found himself thinking of Vixy, and felt a grin pulling at the sides of his muzzle. I'll call her tomorrow, he thought, looking across the dark room to where his coat hung on the door with the phone number inside the pocket. He happily closed his eyes and, outlining her image in his mind, fell asleep.  
  
The coat, dripping with sleet and snow, hung silently. Along its surface the water formed rivulets and slid towards the floor, pooling in crevices and pockets. The paper moved gently as the water came in contact with it, soaking through it and curling the edges. Vixy's handwriting smudged, warped, and gradually smeared into an illegible blob, staining the water and the fabric of the pocket with ink. 


	3. chapter 3

Hey all!  
  
Just a quick note -- For some reason Fanfiction.net isn't converting my HTML tags into what they're actually supposed to look like, and as the site doesn't seem to have a FAQ or troubleshooting guide, or, for that matter, any functional user support whatsoever, I have to keep the story as a bit coded for now. Sorry about that. I'll fix it when I can.  
  
chapter 3  
  
Two years later  
  
James strolled along the main lawn at CDA, breathing in the crisp January air and loosening his scarf a bit. This year's winter was relatively mild; despite the fresh snow that lay on the ground, the sun was shining and the air was warm enough so that some people were actually walking around without coats, content in their sweaters and gloves. It was registration day -- exactly one week after the Solstice, and the beginning of a new school year. James held his completed registration card in his hand and felt giddy with excitement. For the first two years of his college education, he had sat through one general education class after another -- algebra, calculus, physics, astronomy, history, foreign language, etc., etc., etc. Some had been more boring than others. But this year, he thought, looking at the card, is when the fun starts. Printed on the card, between Spoken Katinan 2 and Astronautics 1, was Basic Flight Training.  
  
Life is good, thought James.  
  
He jingled his new room keys and watched others moving luggage and the occasional bookshelf or refrigerator to their new dorms, struggling through the snow. For years there had been talk of changing the beginning of the school year to the fall or spring, but the inertia of hundreds of years of tradition held fast.  
  
"Jim! Yo, what's up?" James turned and saw a good looking tiger jogging up to him.   
  
"Greg! Hey, you're still alive." The two playfully punched each other. "You seen Peppy anywhere?"  
  
"I saw him for a second about half an hour ago. I think he's still in the registration line." Gregory looked down at James's keys. "You all moved in?"  
  
"Well, my stuff is all in the room. I think it's going to be a day or two before I bother to unpack it all, though." James grinned. "My mom got all teary-eyed as usual. I swear, every year she acts like I'm moving to Fortuna or something."  
  
"Parents," Greg said. "I love 'em. Well, listen, I've gotta get all my stuff out of the car and into my room because I'm double parked. Dinner tonight, yeah?"  
  
"Seven o'clock at Mazzy's," James said. "I'll try to find everyone else."  
  
They parted and James walked back towards the auditorium, letting himself in the large front doors. The line snaked all the way out into the lobby and he whistled softly, thankful that he had gotten there early. He made his way alongside the line, looking for Peppy, and eventually spotted him finishing at the student medical insurance table and moving up to class registration.  
  
James ran up and, without warning, pulled the hare's ears. "Missile attack! Duck and cover!"  
  
Peppy's eyes registered surprise, then anger, then friendly excitement as he realized who the voice belonged to. He whipped around and jammed an imaginary sharp object into James's shoulder. "Missile THAT, you punk! What's up!?" They grinned and hugged. "Got here early, I see. iSomeone/i didn't have a redeye flight from Terra River airport this morning."  
  
James grinned. "How'd that go? How was being a camp counselor down where it don't snow? What was the name of the place you were at, again? Camp Twinkletoes? Camp Highnote?"  
  
Peppy rolled his eyes. "Terra River Music Camp," he said. "And it was great, thank you." He smiled enigmatically as he entered his name in the computer terminal. "Met a girl," he said.  
  
"Really?" James leaned against the terminal. "At the camp?"  
  
Peppy nodded. "She was another counselor, plays the piano. Goes to Delantey."  
  
"So she's right in the neighborhood, then."  
  
"Mmm hmm," Peppy said, still smiling.  
  
"So... is it official? Or are you still in the stalking stage?"  
  
Peppy's smile faded a bit. "Still just friends, unfortunately. But maybe... I dunno. You know."  
  
James grinned. "I'll have to meet her."  
  
"Definitely. We should go into the city this weekend, hook up with her."  
  
"Speaking of which," James said. "You up for Mazzy's tonight at seven? I'm trying to get everyone together."  
  
"Can't," Peppy said, and pointed to his violin case, which lay at his feet. "Orchestra's meeting tonight and holding placement auditions. I think I've finally got a shot at first chair this year." The terminal beeped and Peppy began typing in his course numbers.  
  
James peered at the paper on which Peppy had written down the classes he wanted to take -- Spoken Katinan 6, Spoken/Written Tein-shui 1, Interplanetary Political Science, Linguistics 1, and Cultural Psychology. "Wow," James said. "Quite a course load you've got there."  
  
"This year I can finally begin focusing on my major," Peppy said. "No more astronomy for me. Lord, I hated that class. Nothing but radio waves and equations." He finished typing and stood back as the computer chirped out his choices in a perky imitation of a woman's voice.  
  
"Thank you, cadet. Hare. You have entered. Spoken. Katinan. Six. Spoken. Written. Tein-shui. One. Basic Flight Training."  
  
"What!?" Peppy cried.  
  
"Linguistics. One. And. Cultural Psychology. Thank you and please proceed to the next station."  
  
"That's not what I entered," he cried. "Not basic flight training. That was supposed to be Poli Sci!"  
  
The students standing behind them in line grumbled and James picked up the course catalogue. "Interplanetary Political Science is number 6220," he said. "You entered 6230. Hey, cool. We'll be in the same class."  
  
"No, we won't. Excuse me," Peppy said to the woman manning the station. "I made a mistake in my registration. How do I fix it?"  
  
"You can't fix it here," the woman said dully, taking a long drag off of her cigarette. "You have to wait until the add-drop period and fill out the forms in the registrar's office."  
  
"What?" Peppy scowled. "But what if the class I want is full?"  
  
"Honey, I'm not paid to be an advisor," the woman said. "You're holding up the line."  
**  
***  
  
"Honey, I'm not paid to be an advisor," Peppy sneered in a falsetto later that day as they carried groceries home from the supermarket in town. The Corneria City skyline glinted in the distance as they walked through the streets of the suburbs that surrounded the academy and nearby Starforce base. Around them, Corneria's high class citizens mingled with other students and the occasional Starforce officer. Peppy stopped to shift his grip on a bag of carrots, bread, and soda and continued on, shaking his head. "What do I do now? I just know that course is going to be filled up by the time classes start on Wednesday. That's a required course! I need that to graduate!"  
  
"Peppy, calm down," James said. "It'll turn out okay. Worst comes to worst, you have to give up one of your electives sometime. We've got three more years here."  
  
Peppy shook his head. "Foreign Relations is more involved than Aviation. It's interdisciplinary so there are more classes we need to take."  
  
"Well... I don't know what to tell you," James said. "Maybe you can just take an extra class next semester."  
  
"Maybe," Peppy sighed, pausing to look in the window of a bookstore. Beside him a middle aged Chameleon also stopped, dragging a ten-year-old alongside her. She was puffed up in the pomp and finery of the filthy rich of Jennland Province. The boy wore a child-sized suit. James looked down at him and waved cheerfully, but the boy simply stared at him expressionlessly, apparently sizing him up. While one eye remained fixed on James, the other drifted to Peppy. James grew uncomfortable. There was something not quite right about this kid.  
  
A smile grew on the boy's face, and he slowly raised his hand and formed it into the shape of a gun. "Bang," he said. "You're dead."  
  
The woman began to walk again, but stopped as the boy refused to budge, still staring at the two cadets. "Leon!" she said. "Jena sui le vetat nuwei das capitet!" Still the boy did not move, and she tugged at his arm. "Das capitet!" she repeated, and looked up at James and Peppy. "I so sorry," she gushed, and dragged him away.  
  
"Well, you're the linguist," James said. "What'd she say?"  
  
"I don't speak Jennish," Peppy said. "But judging from the way she was treating him I'd say it was something along the lines of 'keep walking, you little brat, or I'll spank you so hard you'll need a pillow just to ithink/i about sitting.'" James shook his head sadly and the two continued on home. As they neared the academy, they passed an electronics store where a small crowd had gathered, watching the television displays in the window. On the many screens, a newscaster solemnly got her papers in order and began to speak.  
  
"In just a few moments we'll be going live to the senate meeting in the capitol building of Corneria City, where our Prime Minister will discuss the issue of Katina's plea for independence with Governer Elisa Santiago, Katina's current Governer. For years now the leaders of Katina have been increasingly militaristic in their demands to become an autonomous state, and after a long series of failed negotiations the senate is finally seriously considering their demands."  
  
***  
  
"Order, order!" The Assistant to the Prime Minister banged his gavel desperately, staring out at the multitudes of representatives, speakers, and diplomats amassed in the capitol building's huge Hall of Congress. He gritted his teeth over the din of voices. He hadn't been chosen for this job because of his outspokenness, a quality generally agreed to be crucial for the Assistant, whose duties included organizing and executing meetings like this one. Prime Minister Vessic had chosen this Assistant for, pretty much, the opposite reasons. He didn't like to get in the way.  
  
I hate my life, he thought, banging the gavel again. Finally the chaos began to subside as people took their seats and looked at him expectantly. There must be about three thousand people in this room, he thought. He put the gavel down and licked his lips nervously.  
  
"This meeting shall come to order on this day of January the seventeenth, in the year five thousand one hundred and twenty two, at the hour of three o'clock," he said into the microphone, rushing through the standard opening statement, which had been uttered by Assistants for the past seven hundred years. "All rise for his honor, the distinguished Prime Minister of Corneria and all outer territories, Harris Vessic." Vessic, a tall monitor lizard, entered through the side door to the sounds of rustling fabric and polite applause. He walked with his head held high, his blue and gray robes of office fluttering about him, and a small smirk across his snout, approaching his seat.  
  
"You may be seated," he said lightly, lowering himself down and arranging the robes around him. "Now," he said, dropping the formalities. "Let's get down to business. Miss Santiago, you have the floor."  
  
All the heads in the room shifted to look at a slender panther with long curly black fur flowing from her scalp as she strode up to the podium. She was dressed in a costume few had seen before - the new robes of office of the self proclaimed Republic of Katina. Vessic narrowed his eyes a bit at the sight. Santiago shuffled some papers and began to speak.  
  
"Prime Minister Vessic and People of Corneria," she said in an exotic Katinan accent. "I do not care to waste our time repeating our demands and the history of our planet. You have heard it from us for the past three years. Yet, your insolent attitude and reluctance to consider the welfare of our people force me to detail it again and again. Before I begin I must stress that this is absolutely the last time I will present our case - if our demands are not met at the end of this meeting, we will be forced to take military action. This is your last chance, Corneria." She cleared her throat and a few hushed whispers drifted through the room. The cameramen in the back kept their cameras focused on her face, broadcasting her image throughout the Lylat System.   
  
"As you know," she continued, "The first colonies on Katina were created and governed by the leaders of Las Estrellas Province, one of the first Provinces to achieve space flight, over three hundred years ago. When Las Estrellas joined Central Province's Federation and was assimilated into the unified planet-wide government one hundred and fifty three years ago, the government of our colonies fell under your jurisdiction. It was then that problems began to arise. As you know," she continued, stressing the words with the faintest hint of accusation, "after the shift in governments, Katina continued to produce and export the copper and iron ore, along with various other commodities, that the colonies had been established for. However, Las Estrellas had granted us free trade and subsidies in exchange for our effort. Corneria's unified government stopped this practice and began to charge unwarranted tariffs and taxes, completely ignoring the trade agreement that we had previously operated under. You, people of Corneria, have treated us like an autonomous state ever since, without the luxury and freedom of autonomy.  
  
"Surely you cannot refute our right to become an autonomous state, for the sake of the welfare of our people. Therefore, our demands are simple. They are as follows:  
  
"Effective immediately, all Cornerian military forces shall be removed from the surface of our planet and the surrounding one thousand five hundred miles of space.  
  
"Effective immediately, our declaration of independence and constitution shall be accepted and added to all government libraries and archives.  
  
"Effective immediately, we shall be granted a seat in the Lylatian House of Representatives.  
  
"Effective immediately, we shall be granted the right to open embassies and consulates in all major provinces, space stations, and colonies.  
  
"Effective immediately, negotiations shall be opened with our government for trade, commerce, and civilian transport charters and guidelines.  
  
"Effective immediately -" Her voice raised a bit in emphasis - "We shall be recognized as a unified autonomous state, the Republic of the planet of Katina!" As she finished, every Katinan civilian and diplomat in the room burst into fervent cheers and applause, along with many of the Cornerians, Titanians, Fortunans, Zonessites, Papetooners, and Edenians. Those who didn't applaud gazed about the room, sizing it up.  
  
Vessic adjusted the hem of his robe while he waited for the applause to die down. When it had subsided to a dull roar he leaned towards the microphone and said, "Very moving, Representative Santiago." She gazed at him defiantly. "Now, may I say my piece?"  
  
"But of course," she said.  
  
"Let me just say," Vessic said, a smirk slowly coloring his face, "That I don't believe you have considered the whole picture regarding our trade agreements. Have you given any thought to the support we give you that isn't immediately noticeable? If we remove our forces from Katina, your planet will be open to raiders, pirates, terrorist groups, and thieves that, quite frankly, I don't believe your small military would be able to handle. If you become an autonomous planet, you will be left completely unprotected." He shook his head. "No, Miss Santiago. I don't believe it's in Katina's best interest to remove itself from Corneria's helping hand."  
  
Everyone in the room stared tensely at Santiago, waiting for her response. She stared at Vessic for a moment, put her papers down and said, evenly, "Your Honor. I believe this meeting will be much more productive if you stop lying through your teeth." There were audible gasps, bursts of whispering, and even a shout or two. The Assistant banged his gavel again and Santiago continued. "We have both monitored the space surrounding each planet in Lylat and studied the records of interplanetary transit in the Lylat system, and incidences of pirates, raiders and the like have gone down by sixty seven percent in the past fifteen years. Our military is more than capable of defending the planet, and you know it." She smiled. "No, Mr. Prime Minister, I believe you have different motives for holding on to Katina."  
  
"Oh really," Vessic said, his smirk remaining firm.  
  
"Yes," she said. "Really. I believe that your motivation is simple greed." Vessic's smile tightened. "I believe that you want to hold on to Katina in order to gain access to our natural resources without having to pay a fair price for them. I believe the taxes placed on our imports were designed in order to squeeze even more out of us, without even the pretense of justification. This is a despicable practice and we are disgusted that it has been allowed to continue for over a century."  
  
"Miss Santiago," Vessic said. "Surely you don't hold Ime/I personally responsible for taxes that were put in place years before I was even -"  
  
"I feel I should point out," Santiago said, "that it was you who raised those taxes only a year ago. Where has that money gone, Prime Minister? Towards the good of the people, as you are so fond of saying, or into the wallets of you and your gang?"   
  
"This is an outrage!" All heads turned as the representative of Carlone Province stood up. "The Hall of Congress is Ino place/I to begin mudslinging!"  
  
"Order! ORDER!" The Assistant banged his gavel until he feared it would shatter. "Order! Please! Order!"  
  
"I must have your answer now," Santiago said, her chin high. "Will you grant us independence and accept our demands? Or will you refuse and force us to take military action?"  
  
"I think you know the answer," Vessic said, his smirk firmly affixed to his face. "I suggest you give it up, my dear Miss Santiago."  
  
Santiago stared at him. "Very well," she said. "I suggest you prepare then, your honor. Because you've left us with no choice." With that, she turned smartly and walked down the aisle, past the crowds, and out of the back exit, reporters immediately swarming around her.  
  
***  
  
Vessic rubbed his forehead and slammed his hand on the intercom as it buzzed. "Your five o'clock is here, sir," his secretary said.  
  
Vessic sighed and forced himself to relax. "Thanks. Send him on in."  
  
The door to his office opened and a tall ape with the beginnings of a beard walked in. Vessic smiled. "Edmund. So glad you could make it. Please, have a seat."  
  
Edmund Andross nodded and sat down in, taking off his coat. Everything about him was large and imposing. He was not large in Jack McCloud's gentle way, but rather in a way that gave one the impression that he could take control of you with just one hand. Although he was not yet in his forties, his face was weathered enough so that he looked ageless. "That was quite a show earlier this afternoon. I was very amused."  
  
"Cut the crap, Edmund," Vessic said. "You know what this means. The Katinans have themselves a formidable army. I'd venture to say that the fighting'll start any time now. Maybe within the next week or so." He shook his head. "I thought they'd get scared again. Guess I miscalculated that one."  
  
"How dreadful," Andross said, smiling. "And what does this have to do with me?"  
  
Vessic leaned forward. "We need your weapons, Andross. We've been following your progress at the CDA Science Institute and we feel the technology you've developed will be crucial to insuring a swift victory over this rebellion."  
  
Andross raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if you've heard, but the Institute cut the funding for my biotech research almost a year ago. Due to 'unjustifiable danger to the public,' they said."  
  
"Forget them," Vessic said easily. "I'm authorizing full funding for your research, starting immediately. We'll give you however much you need."  
  
Andross smiled a bit. "I was not aware that you were authorized to make that decision," he said.  
  
Vessic smiled back. "We're in a war, now, Edmund. I can do whatever I want, now, can't I?"  
  
"You understand, of course, that I will need some time to develop my weaponry and get it battle ready."  
  
"Take all the time you need," Vessic said. "As long as you're quick about it." 


End file.
